


Sophomore Slump (Or Comeback Of The Year)

by canistakahari



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Crush, Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:30:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/pseuds/canistakahari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Scott is a good friend and Stiles crushes on him a bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sophomore Slump (Or Comeback Of The Year)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daunt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daunt/gifts).



Someone is knocking on the door to his bedroom and Stiles is so stressed out he’s probably going to have an aneurysm.   
  
Is that a thing that can happen? An anxiety-induced blood clot to the brain? Stiles bets it is.   
  
If not, he’ll be the first documented case.   
  
“This is not a good time,” snaps Stiles, glaring down at his desk. “Whatever it is, whoever you are, I just need you to—back out slowly, say nothing, and go away for like a week while I try to get shit done.”  
  
The door opens, then closes; there are footsteps behind him and Stiles is about to open his mouth and flip out when an arm reaches into his field of vision holding a bag that exudes savoury warmth and smells like egg rolls.  
  
“I bring an offering,” says Scott, which is who the arm is attached to. Stiles turns to him and Scott grins sheepishly.  
  
Stiles slumps a little in his chair in the face of Scott’s sweet expression and crooked smile. “Is there sweet and sour sauce?”  
  
“Of course,” says Scott, sounding offended that Stiles would even suggest he’d forget it.  
  
“Then you can stay,” mutters Stiles, snagging the bag and ripping it open.  
  
They sit on the bed and share the carton of kung pow chicken and egg rolls, passing them back and forth, getting grease and dipping sauce on Stiles’s sheets. Neither of them talk, mostly because their mouths are full, but also because they got past the stage of awkward silences when they were like ten years old and sometimes the situation just calls for a companionable lack of conversation.  
  
When the food has been decimated, Scott scoops up the trash and puts it in the garbage can and Stiles sighs and lies face down on the bed for a while, panicking internally.  
  
“You’ll be fine,” says Scott soothingly.  
  
“My to-do list is like ten miles long and every time I think about it I want to hide under a rock,” mutters Stiles, voice muffled by his bed. “I just want to sleep and then wake up and not have to do anything. Can I become a slug?”  
  
“No,” says Scott. “Because then I’d have to be really careful with the salt around you. It would be a lot of responsibility.”  
  
“Slugs don’t need to do homework or study for chemistry death-tests or meet up with people for group projects,” protests Stiles. “So far, it’s sounding like a good life.”  
  
“Slugs also don’t get to play video games or eat Chinese food or go to lacrosse practice,” points out Scott.  
  
“Everything is the worst,” sighs Stiles. “I shouldn’t be lying here. I should be working. But the more I have to work, the less I become able to actually do it.”  
  
“Are you on chapter four?” says Scott, sitting down in Stiles’s desk chair and picking up his chemistry text book.  
  
“Yeah,” mumbles Stiles.  
  
“Then I’m going to read it to you,” says Scott firmly.  
  
Stiles’s stomach flips a little, his cheeks heating up. He sits up in bed, looking across the room at his best friend, a little floored by how much better he already feels. He grins and rolls his eyes.  “Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”


End file.
